


Attraction as a Framework and Why We Never Needed It

by EmptyTheBlue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 1503, Canon Divergent, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Crushes, Mutual Pining, Pining, Repressed Bisexuality, kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 10:15:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21492679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmptyTheBlue/pseuds/EmptyTheBlue
Summary: Cas left and now I'm FIXING THE WRITERS' MISTAKES. AGAIN.Destiel Fluff. Enjoy, ya lesbians.
Relationships: Dean Winchester / Castiel, DeanCas, Destiel, dean / cas
Kudos: 37





	Attraction as a Framework and Why We Never Needed It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Madi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madi/gifts).

Cas had honestly never felt worse. The rain had absolutely soaked his many layers, leaving his dark hair in a soggy mop on his head, dripping into his eyes. He tried to ignore the sopping noise his shoes made as he approached the apartment door. It was almost funny; he was an angel-turned-human in the most roundabout was possible, and yet he still found himself grasping for straws when an extremely specific address made an appearance in a dream. Reno, Nevada was a long string of hitchhiking and bus rides away from Lawrence, but Cas had made the whole journey in a surprising four days flat. 

He raised a tired fist to knock on the door. Before his knuckles met dark oak, a thin figure pulled it open with ferocity. “Oh, good.” Amara sighed. The anger had only been on her face for a moment, but it remained in Castiel’s memory like a photograph. “Come in, I’ve been waiting for ages.” Without a word, Cas stepped meekly into the apartment, sealing the door behind him. “It seems,” Amara spoke with caution, “That you’ll be needing a place to stay.” Cas gave a grumble of affirmation, shifting in his socks. He didn’t necessarily hate Amara - she did relinquish a grip on earth that could have very well ended it - but he didn’t have a lot in common with her. “I guess I should catch you up to speed.” 

At some point in the conversation, Cas’ clothes and hair magically dried, he sat on a very thin sofa, and a mug of soup was placed into his hands. Amara explained how Chuck had ‘paid her a visit’ and how he was ‘just as unpleasant as ever.’ Cas couldn’t help but imagine how his father’s face twisted as he realized that he was no longer the most powerful being in the universe; for some reason, it tipped a corner of his mouth up. Cas explained the ghosts to Amara, how a 300-year-old witch had sacrificed herself for the sake of the world, how Dean had blamed him for everything. He felt himself choke up when bringing up Jack, how his father had killed his son in a fit of rage. Unclenching his fists, he described Belphegor, his mocking attitude and blatant disrespect for his vessel. He detailed why Dean took it out on him, the things that humans just don’t understand. 

“Cas, you’ve been around for a long time, right?” Amara took a sip from her water bottle. Cas nodded, fairly certain that she meant in totality rather than just on earth. “How many humans have you gotten attached to in your life?” 

In the ten or so seconds that followed, Cas found himself lost in memory. Between vessels and lives, eras and universes, wars and truces, Cas had only found himself bound to humans in the last few years- a millisecond in the life of an angel. His mind whirled between monster hunts and supply runs, impala rides and the fall, big brothers and sisters who laid blame on him because he sacrificed them for a human. In all this thought, between breaths and heartbeats, only one name came to mind. The righteous son, the sword, humanity itself-- 

“Dean.” 

“Funny, how your mind always seems to wander back to him.” 

“That’s because-” 

“There’s no way he blames you for everything.” Amara interrupted. Her cool eyes had snapped up, frozen gaze pinning Cas in place. “I know him, Cas. I practically rode him to earth. He’s a big baby and he takes his frustrations out on everyone else.” She stood, signaling for Cas to stand with her. With measured words, she continued. “But he is a good man. And he does care about you very much. As much as I want to slap him for getting upset at you, it is what you have to deal with. You did fall in love with him.” 

“I never implied-” 

“Oh, grow up.” Amara slung her arms around Cas as a final parting. “Get home safe.” 

Three days later, Cas sat alone at a breakfast café in Lawrence. He had taken a greyhound route from Reno, using the money Amara had lent him. He’d been fully human once before, after the fall, but this gradual slide from holiness took way more of a toll on him. The need for things like food and water pushed him into habits, but emotions made him feel untethered and weak. As he stared at a plate of sausages and eggs, his mind wandered to the Winchesters. They had once called Cas family, embracing him as a brother- Sam and Dean had been his only true adventure in his very long life. 

Cas found it alarming that he often didn’t find significance in the saving of lives, but in the small details of a seemingly mundane day-to-day in the bunker. When hunts ended and demons stirred no trouble, Cas would often tag along to a laundromat or hardware store, doing almost what normal families did. He and Sam once took Jack to see a movie in 3-D, which made no sense to neither Cas nor Jack, who had complete ability to see in several dimensions. So yeah, Cas liked laundry. He finished his breakfast and left what money he had remaining, heading out towards the bunker. 

Hand on bunker door, Cas was paralyzed. What was he going to say? This human hesitation was the bane of his human existence. 

Descending the stairs, Castiel heard a familiar voice. Sam sounded upset, but in more of an annoyed way. He was speaking into his cellphone, one arm braced on the kitchen counter. “No, I didn’t ask for vegan bacon, you can just drop it!” a pause. “Yeah, orange juice sounds good. Grab some beer, too.” another pause “Sure, I’ll check.” Sam exited the kitchen, phone still to his ear. Upon seeing Cas, he held up a finger, a confused expression twisting his face. “Yeah, uh, let me call you back about those, uh, lightbulbs.” 

“Cas, where-” Sam’s expression flickered as his breath quickened in relief. “Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick. Dean-” 

“Probably fine, I’m sure. He sent me off, after all.” Cas interrupted. Sam looked hurt. 

“He’s a big baby.” Cas rolled his eyes, good-naturedly. “Look, he’s been acting funny for a while so I'm glad you’re back.” Sam stepped to Cas, embracing him. “Dean needs you around, and he’s gonna be glad too.” 

“Oh, great.” Dean hadn’t made a sound while entering the bunker, catching both Sam and Cas off guard. “Trouble’s back in town. How was your week?” The sarcasm was apparent. 

“Dean, you’re a dick.” Sam snapped. “It’s not his fault that any of this happened.” 

“Oh so, Rowena meant nothing to you?” Sam winced. Dean bit his emotions back, turning his icy gaze to rest in the blue eyes of a former angel. “Why are you back? I thought you said you were going to leave.” 

“I did, Dean. I saw Amara.” 

“What?” 

“Amara, the darkness. She’s in Reno and she called out to me. We had a talk.” When no one else spoke, Cas continued. “She told me that Chuck isn’t at full throttle, that he can’t abandon this universe because of the equalizer. I told her about the ghosts, about Rowena and Jack, all the way up to my leaving. She said I needed to come back.” Dean still didn’t speak. He was taken aback. “She told me that I’m a part of this family, whether we like it or not. That I'm more human than I used to be, and that I’ve made a home here- with you both.” A pause. “And yes, Dean, that means I belong here. For as much as we screw up- as much as I might not stick to plans- we still save people. We still have each other.” 

Several emotions flooded Dean’s face over a course of a few seconds. He put his fingers to his temples and screwed his eyes shut. “I need a few minutes.” 

Hours later, Cas stood outside Dean’s bedroom, once again contemplating. His hand reached for the doorknob, resting softly on the tarnished brass. He noticed, for the first time ever, that Dean never really closed his bedroom door. It felt like a soft sentiment, a reluctant invitation and openness Dean could only feel in a place he was able to call home. Cas pushed open the door, sure to let it make a sound. Dean turned his head, fists still knotted in the duvet. He was obviously troubled. 

“Found anything?” Cas asked lightheartedly. Dean’s eyebrows furrowed. 

“No, Cas, you don’t get to come back into my life after a week of being god-knows-where and ask to go on a hunt. Don’t act like we didn’t forget how badly you screwed up.” The words were almost spat at Cas, and Dean found himself a little guilty for using such a tone. 

“Seems like Sam’s glad that I’m back.” Cas offered. 

“Sure, he is. He doesn’t know-” 

“Dean.” 

“- don’t interrupt me! He doesn’t know that you killed Jack.” 

“Belphegor. It wasn’t Jack.” Cas stepped into the room, almost-closing the door behind him. Dean stood. 

“It used to be Jack” Dean raised a hand to his face, muttering more to himself than to the other man in the room. “God, listen to me.” He paused “Listen to you. Referring to our son as an ‘it’. You’re no better than your feathery brothers.” 

“Slip of the tongue.” Cas stepped closer. They were only three feet apart. “You know, like when I told you I loved you.” Dean glanced down. “That’s all we wrote it off as, right? I was dying, you were the only thing I had to hold onto in that moment, and we brushed it off like yesterday’s dog hair.” Neither spoke. 

Cas turned to leave, heart in his stomach. “Cas,” 

“If you don’t feel the same, I can’t blame you. But I can’t keep lying to myself.” The door closed fully behind him. 

Sam was staring intently at his computer when Cas stepped into the library. He only looked up when Cas flung himself into a chair, a big sigh accompanying the baying of the wood floor. “Hey man, how’d it go?” 

“Terrible.” 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” 

Cas looked up and scooted closer. “Your brother is a piece of work.” 

“It’s the internalized homophobia.” Sam looked up from the laptop again, measuring Cas’ reaction. “He’s not, like gay, but he likes you too and it scares him. He’s liked guys before, but they’re more like crushes that fade pretty quick. He’s full-on fallen for you, and it’s been really scary for him.” 

“Did he tell you that?” Cas asked, cautious. 

“Well, no, but I know him well enough. Also, he gets sappy when he’s drunk.” There was a moment of stillness. “I think he’s glad you said it first.” 

“How glad could he be?” 

“Well, not glad, but relieved.” A door opened down the hallway. Cas braced himself. As Dean approached the threshold, Sam’s eyes darted between the two, gagueing the sexual tension he’d grown so used to. God, this has gotten old, he thought to himself, I’ve been dealing with this way too long. He stood, closing the screen. “Dean, can I talk to you?” 

“What is there to say?” Dean muttered, shoulder against the hallway wall. Sam crossed his arms. 

“Dude, I’ve watched you pine for this guy for like, a decade. You’ve got some repressed shit coming back up in the wake of another big one and you still don’t deal with your emotions.” Sam let a hand fall to his side. “No one cares that you like some angel wearing a man-suit. Come on, it’s 2019.” 

“It isn’t that-” 

“Then what is it, Dean? You never had a problem with expressing... attraction until it was this guy, an angel who you stabbed within 30 seconds of knowing.” Dean rolled his eyes. “He literally just told you he likes you, so stop being a baby and tell him you love him too.” 

“Woah, I didn’t-” 

“Shut up, Dean. It’s been like ten years. You love him.” Sam placed a firm hand on Dean’s shoulder as he made his way towards his own bedroom down the hall. 

Dean couldn’t avoid it any longer. He had been... curious in his younger years, which eventually led to the very real discovery of his bisexuality. Sure, he tended to like girls a lot more, but it was still valid to be this way, right? He’d spent a lot of time hiding it from his dad, fabricating coverups to fool a distracted old man. Dean had convinced himself that he was totally and utterly straight, even telling his younger brother that he no longer liked men and that it was, in fact, just a phase. By twenty-eight, he’s almost forgotten that he’d ever liked men in the first place. 

And suddenly, boom. An angel had literally come crashing into his life, destroying the fragile framework of sexuality that he’d built himself. It wasn’t instant, not the love. He’d spent time with Cas, learning about him, his home, his dedication, and he’d fallen in love with him. They’d lost each other a million times but somehow, they remained. Dean often found himself tracing the outline of a handprint on his shoulder, wishing Cas was able to hold him like that again, proud to have Dean in his arms, whatever the reason. 

Sam had caught on pretty quick. He noticed how Dean’s hands lingered, how his eyes dipped to scour Cas’ lips as he licked his own, how his hairs stood on end when Cas was in danger. Sam had gotten to see his brother find love in its purest form, find another being who matched his intensity and passion, and by god it was an angel. Sam came to see Cas as a brother-in-law of sorts, developing a tight relationship with the angel that meant much to both of them, but Sam was always glad when Dean made himself vulnerable to Cas. 

Vulnerable. You have to be vulnerable. Dean was definitely not prepared to say anything. He cleared his throat while he leant against the counter, facing Cas. Awkward was an understatement. 

“So, uh...” Dean started. “I feel the same. I’m getting old. What you said about denying feelings- I get that. I've spent too much time trying to... I don’t even know.” Cas’ eyes were wide, sad, like he’d been waiting for this for far too long. “I’m sorry, Cas. I should have said something.” Dean looked down, trying not to tear up. A familiar hand graced his chin. 

“It’s not like I understand human time or anything, but you’ve been stubborn for a greater portion of your life. I can’t say I ever expected you to love me, but when I was first human, I understood love in a way that angels just don’t.” His fingers gently grazed the stubble on Dean’s neck as he lowered his hand. “I understood that the energy you give off, the reason you keep fighting, is because you love the world. It’s this pure devotion that let me fall from faith again.” Cas paused, licking his lips. “I knew you would be there. You’d still be Dean, just as human, just as extraordinary as ever.” He caught Dean in his gaze. His hands had lingered on his chest. “You are my home, Dean.” 

If you could have seen it from an astral point of view, an nth dimension, for example, you would have seen the most vibrant explosion of colors to ever happen. The collision of two souls, one angel and one human, is the most fascinating event to grace any universe, past or present. But to the earthly spectator, it looked like any first kiss does. Gentle lips on lips, eyes softly closed, breath held. Cas hadn’t done much kissing, but Dean knew how. He held on tenderly, rough palms clasping strong biceps through several layers of clothes. Stationary for a moment, just being sure that any of this was truly happening. 

Dean pulled away after a moment, breathless. His hands remained on Cas’ arms, still holding him. His heart was racing. Cas’ eyes fluttered open; his mouth still agape. Deep blue eyes met soft green ones. Two souls bound themselves again, and no one would ever be the same.


End file.
